BRYTE'S ASCENT (Arucadi Series Book 8)
Page 17
“Well, what is it?” Bryte was tired and short on patience.
“I’m a quencher. I can block the operation of power. I used it to hide Stethan’s gifts until he was old enough to control them himself. But that’s it. So far as I know, it’s the only other power I have.”
“It might be just what we need,” Bryte hid her disappointment. She had hoped for more.
She banged on the shop door until Master Onigon opened it and slipped inside quickly before he could shut it again, should he wish to do so. But he held it open, allowing Kanra to follow her inside.
“You didn’t find the net,” the Widow Kipley said from a chair across the room. It was a statement, not a question, so Bryte ignored it.
“I need money,” she told Master Onigon. “I need to take back what I’ve given you.”
“Not all, surely,” Master Onigon said, frowning. “That would be unwise. You should save at least half for another time of need.”
She wasn’t disposed to argue. “All right, then, give me half of what you’re keeping for me.”
Master Onigon nodded, consulted his ledger, opened his safe and withdrew from it coins, mostly triums, worth half the value of the coins she’d deposited with him.
“A storm’s coming,” the Widow Kipley said. “Looks to be a bad one. You’d best come back home with me. You’ve got the room rented, after all. You need rest, and there’s naught you can do in this storm.”
“I’ll bet Lina won’t come back, and she didn’t sleep last night either,” Bryte protested. “I’ll bet the storm won’t keep her from doing whatever she plans to do.”
“Never you mind what she does or doesn’t do,” the widow said. “You don’t have her powers. Come back, eat, rest, and build up your strength. Ye’ll need it for what ye’ve taken on.”
Bryte wanted to refuse, but she was very tired, and so, clearly, was Kanra. Also, she had the stirrings of an idea, but it was one that could only be put into effect in the daylight. So, reluctantly, she agreed.
The carriage Master Onigon had procured for them drew up to the widow’s boardinghouse in a driving rain. The wind howled around them, and the rain soaked them as they ran from the carriage to the front door.
Bryte thought of Lina, out in this storm. Despite the young woman’s changed attitude toward her, she liked Lina and hoped she would find shelter somewhere and be safe.
“She’s a survivor, that one,” said the widow when Bryte expressed her concern. “No need to worry over her. Put your worries aside for this one night and get rest.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE ABDUCTION
With her triums and coppers in her pocket, tied in a large handkerchief borrowed from Master Onigon, Bryte sat in the carriage and chewed on a ragged fingernail as she reviewed her plan. She disliked carrying the money with her, but she had no idea when she might need it.
For the business she planned, she had donned the blue silk dress Lina had picked out for her to wear when posing as Lina’s cousin. She’d been surprised to find it and her old clothes hanging in the closet of the room in the boarding house. Lina must have brought them here, though Bryte couldn’t imagine how or when.
If Lina had returned to the boarding house, Bryte hadn’t seen her. She clearly had not changed her mind about going on alone, as Bryte had hoped. She guessed that Lina would go after the box that, according to the Dire Lord, held Oryon’s soul. That meant that Lina, panther or human, would have to brave the dangers of entering Lord Inver’s home. Bryte had no desire to encounter her there and get in her way and incur her further anger. If they interfered with each other, they would both be easy prey for Lord Inver.
The storm of the night before had faded to a light but steady drizzle under a sky dark with clouds. A hot bath, a good night’s sleep, and a filling breakfast had lifted her spirits until she and Kanra had gotten into the carriage and left the safety of the Widow Kipley’s boarding house.
Bryte had worked out a plan that, while dangerous, seemed less so than a direct assault on Lord Inver’s stronghold would be. A plan, furthermore, that could be carried out in the daytime.
She’d been reluctant to tell Kanra what she intended; she told her only that they were not going to confront Lord Inver. She directed the carriage driver to the fifth tier, and not until they started up the ramp to that tier did she tell Kanra their destination. “We’re going to my father’s house—to Lord Hallomer’s house,” she said.
“He won’t be there,” Kanra said after recovering from her surprise. “He’ll be at his office, on the sixth tier.”
“That’s what I’m counting on,” Bryte said. “I don’t want to see him. I want to see Ileta, the half sister I’ve never met. My mother told me her name. That’s all I know about her.”
“You don’t expect her to help us, do you?”
“Not willingly, no.”
“Bryte, if you expect me to help you, you have to tell me your plan.”
Bryte nodded, knowing Kanra was right but afraid the priestess would laugh at the presumptuousness of her idea.
“What do you think Lord Hallomer would do,” Bryte asked slowly, “if the only daughter he cares about was held hostage, and the only way he could get her back was to rescue Stethan from Lord Inver?”
Kanra gasped. “You plan to grab Ileta and hold her as security for Stethan?”
“It could work,” Bryte said defensively.
“She won’t be alone in the house,” Kanra said. “Even though Lord Hallomer isn’t there, servants will be, and probably bodyguards as well.”
“Probably,” Bryte conceded. “But we’re gifted. That gives us an advantage—or at least a chance. It’s the only thing I can think of.”
“It might work,” Kanra said. “It’s not a bad plan. Not bad at all.”
The positive response pleased Bryte, though she suspected the priestess was only putting on a brave face before the obvious danger.
The carriage pulled up before wrought-iron gates. “This is as far as I can go, ladies,” the driver said, holding out his hand for the fare. “Will you be wanting me to wait?”
The question made Bryte realize how little she had thought through this mad scheme. If they dismissed the driver, they would be stranded, but to hold him here would be to involve him in their crime. If he discovered what they were about, he’d not only refuse to drive them; he’d most likely summon Peace Officers and have them carted off to a detention cell.
She was still trying to decide what to answer, when Kanra said, “Yes, please wait for a time. If we don’t come back in half an hour, you may leave.”
“I’ll have to charge you for that time, you understand, and you’ll have to pay me now if you want me to wait and aren’t certain of returning.”
Bryte nodded and dug into her cache of coins, extracted the eleven coppers he requested, all midis, and handed them to him without saying a word. Her mind was too busy with what lay ahead.
They hurried toward the gate, the light rain settling on their clothes and faces. Bryte welcomed its cooling touch. Her hand shook as she pulled the thick cord that summoned the gatekeeper.
So often she’d dreamed of coming to this house and announcing herself as the daughter of Lord Hallomer. Now here she was, and although she could not admit her identity, she might at last meet the sister she had envied for so long, the sister who enjoyed all the benefits of the Hallomer name and the Hallomer wealth.
The gatehouse was just on the other side of the gate, but the gatekeeper must have been elsewhere on the estate. They waited several minutes, and although Bryte tried to calm herself, the wait only increased her nervousness.
Kanra laid a cool hand on Bryte’s arm. “Relax,” she whispered.
Her tension must be obvious; that would never do. Bryte took deep breaths and wiped her sweaty hands on her skirt. At least the rain provided a reason for the beads of moisture on her forehead. She must conceal the nervousness she felt.
The gatekeeper arrived at last.
An older man, bewhiskered and bushy-haired, he peered out through the grillwork, making no move to open the gates. “Master’s not in,” he said, his voice gruff, unwelcoming.
“We aren’t here to see Lord Hallomer,” Bryte said. “We’ve come to visit Miss Ileta Hallomer.”
The man’s thick eyebrows shot up. “Miss Ileta? Is she expecting you?”
“We didn’t give her an exact time of arrival,” Bryte said.
“Miss Ileta doesn’t often have visitors,” the man commented in what Bryte judged by his attitude to be an understatement. She wondered that her sister did not have an active social life—Ileta must be of an age to have suitors come courting.
“She’s allowed them, surely,” Kanra put in. “I guess we should have sent word and awaited a formal invitation, but this is merely a brief courtesy call.”
“Well, I suppose I can let you in,” the gatekeeper said, scratching his beard. “You’ll have to get past the housekeeper, though. Kirsie may not let you visit Miss Ileta.”
“Why should that be up to the housekeeper?” Bryte asked, her nervousness reviving.
“Kirsie’s in charge of the household when Lord Hallomer’s away.”
“Surely Miss Ileta is old enough to decide for herself who should visit her,” Kanra said. “Isn’t she close to my age?”
“Most likely so, miss.” The gatekeeper unlocked the gate and swung it open. “Doesn’t matter. It’ll be up to Kirsie.” He stepped aside and let them pass through the gates.
Bryte cast a worried glance back at the carriage. They’d spent too long convincing the gatekeeper, and now they’d learned they faced another hurdle before they could reach Ileta. They could only move forward and hope they could accomplish their goal before the carriage left, stranding them in enemy territory. They walked up the winding drive to the entranceway.
Flanked by white marble columns, the door was of highly polished wood panels. A bronze knocker carved in the form of a panther gave Bryte pause. Lina would approve, she thought with a pang of regret. She would have much more confidence if Lina were with them.
At Bryte’s hesitation, Kanra reached past her and lifted the knocker, let it fall, and repeated that sequence four times.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” someone called from within moments before the door swung open, revealing a diminutive woman in a white dust cap and apron. The woman glared at them. “Tradesmen’s entrance is in the back,” she snapped.
“Please, we’re here to see Miss Ileta,” Kanra said.
“Miss Ileta doesn’t see anyone,” the woman said, starting to close the door.
Bryte stepped quickly into the narrowing gap. “Are you the housekeeper?” she asked.
“Who else would be answering the door?” the woman said, scowling at her.
“We were told to ask your permission to visit Miss Ileta,” Bryte said. “We only want to pay a short visit.”
“Well, you can’t.” The little woman placed her hands on her hips and glared up at them. “Miss Ileta is resting, and I have no intention of disturbing her.”
“Who is it, Kirsie?” a young woman’s voice called.
“Nobody, miss,” the infuriating maid called back.
“Friends to see Miss Ileta,” Bryte shouted.
Footsteps, distant at first, but growing more rapid as they drew closer, gave Bryte hope.
But the maid gave Bryte a hard shove, pushing her out the door and slamming it shut despite the fact that Bryte’s hand was on the doorframe. Bryte let out a scream as the door squeezed her hand and she felt her fingers break. Pain shot through her arm.
Through her pain she heard on the other side of the door, “Kirsie, what have you done? Open that door immediately.”
“They’re troublemakers, miss. I’d bet my life on it.”
“Kirsie, you’ve shut the door on someone’s hand. Open it, I say!”
The door opened enough for Bryte to withdraw her injured hand. Kanra slid her foot in the gap, risking similar damage. “Miss Ileta?” she asked.
“Yes. Kirsie, step aside. Now!” The housekeeper grudgingly allowed Kanra to open the door farther, their savior said, “Why, it’s a priestess of Mibor. Kirsie, how could you? Come in, please, both of you. Oh, your poor hand. It’s turning purple. We must put ice on it.” Grasping Bryte by her good hand, she drew her inside.
Ileta was about Kanra’s height but almost skeletally thin and so pale that Bryte wondered whether the girl was ill. No wonder they protected her so zealously. This was the sister she’d envied and resented all her life! Those feelings vanished like a morning mist.
If only her pain would vanish!
“She had no call to put her hand in that door,” Kirsie grumbled. “And you got no call to be down here out of your room when it’s your nap time.”
At that rebuke, Bryte’s already smoldering rage, fueled by pain, burst into full fury, and with it came the power light.
Kirsie screamed.
“Grab Ileta,” Bryte ordered Kanra.
Kanra had to be as blinded as badly as Kirsie and Ileta, but she reached out, grabbed the hand that clasped Bryte’s, and yanked its owner through the doorway.
“We won’t hurt you,” Bryte said. “Don’t be afraid. Just come with us.”
“That light. I can’t see. What are you?”
“I’ll explain,” Bryte said. “Now, come on.”
Kirsie by now had the door open again and was groping toward them, eyes shut.
“Run,” Bryte said.
Kanra ran, dragging Ileta with her. Bryte followed more slowly, cradling her bruised and broken hand. Her rage still burned, and so did her light.
The gatekeeper stood in front of the gate, barring their way, having heard Kirsie’s outcries. But he, too, was blinded by Bryte’s rage-light. Kirsie’s shouts would alert everyone in the house. Steeling herself against the pain throbbing through her hand and arm, Bryte, who alone could see, lifted his keys from his hand and pushed past him to open the gate.
Bryte looked out at the street; the carriage was still there, the driver gaping at them.
“Go on, get her into the carriage,” Bryte told Kanra.
Kanra followed the order, running with Ileta to the carriage and climbing in.
Bryte stayed at the gate a moment longer, letting her light blind the gatekeeper enough to prevent his stopping them. Her light fading, she dashed to the carriage and climbed in.
The driver took off. “I told him to take us back to the boardinghouse,” Kanra said. “If we make it there, the Widow Kipley can heal your hand.”
Ileta huddled in a corner, looking wide-eyed at her two abductors. It occurred to Bryte then that the girl had not once cried out or tried to get away from them.
“Your poor hand,” she said to Bryte. “Kirsie is so ill-tempered. And it does no good at all to complain to Papa. He never scolds her.”
“It’ll be okay,” Bryte said. “I hope we didn’t scare you too badly.”
Ileta shook her head. “I don’t know why you’ve dragged me here, but I don’t care. It’s good to be out of that house. I’ve longed for an adventure, and you’re giving me one. You don’t look dangerous.”
“We’re not, you’re right about that,” Bryte said. “We won’t hurt you. We just want something from your father.”
“You’ve put yourselves in danger, then. My father will hunt you down, you know. He’ll never pay a ransom for me, so if that’s what you’re after, you’ll be disappointed.”
“We’re not after money, not at all,” Bryte said. “I should—” The carriage hit a pothole and the bounce jolted her hand against the side of the carriage. She cried out in pain and for several minutes could do nothing but cradle her hand and moan. Swollen to more than twice its normal size, it throbbed incessantly.
Kanra leaned over and touched her shoulder. “We’ll be there soon,” she said gently.
“Where are we going?” Ileta asked.
Kanra looked questioningly at Bryte.
Contrary to all her expectations, Bryte liked this half-sister who, though five years older than she, seemed much younger. While Bryte wasn’t giving up her scheme for retrieving Stethan, she now wanted to protect Ileta as well. Instead of solving a problem, she’d taken on a new responsibility.
Perhaps that wouldn’t seem so daunting when her hand stopped hurting. Right now she could think of nothing but the pain. She sat hunched over the hand, ignoring her companions.
Ileta must have guessed that she’d get no information from Bryte at present. She asked Kanra, “Are you really a priestess of Mibor?”
“Yes, I am,” Kanra said, smoothing her green robe.
“It seems strange—a priestess taking part in an abduction.”
“I suppose it does. I am a priestess, but I have other responsibilities as well.”
“Separate, you mean, from your duty to Mibor?”
Bryte heard no answer, but Kanra must have nodded, because after a pause, Ileta said, “As a priestess, doesn’t your duty to Mibor take precedence over all other concerns?”
“It should,” Kanra said in a flat voice.
“But it does not,” Ileta finished for her.
“No, it does not,” Kanra agreed, and both of them lapsed into a silence that lasted until the carriage pulled up in front of the Widow Kipley’s boarding house.
Kanra jumped down and helped Bryte out. Ileta followed, looking about curiously. “I’ve never been on this level,” she said.
The Widow Kipley met them at the door and hurried them inside. “What have ye done?” she demanded, gazing at Ileta.
“She’s Lord Hallomer’s daughter,” Bryte said. “We snatched her out of his house. I’ll explain, but first, could you heal this?” She held out her mangled hand.
The widow gasped. “It needs healing, that’s sure. But we have no time. Did ye truly think ye could snatch Lord Hallomer’s daughter and get away with it? Ye’re sure to have been followed.”